


Adjustment

by Macx



Series: Gray Areas [8]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-25
Updated: 2005-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:43:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An angel, a demon, a peaceful lake and memories...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustment

The place was private, hidden away from prying eyes, the lush green of the grass, the blue of the lake, the colours of the wild flowers all competing with each other to win the viewer's appreciation.

Tough, Crowley thought as he let his shaded eyes take in the scenery. Tough if it competed against the beauty that lay beside him.

Aziraphale had forgone his usual outfit and dressed up in summer trousers, a stylish shirt and trainers. Currently his feet were bare, flexing in the warmth of the sun, and he was lying with his back on the grass, face to the sky. His eyes were behind shades, too, though he usually didn't wear them as religiously as Crowley did.

The demon himself had tossed the leather jacket and decided on a skin-tight, sleeveless black t-shirt, jeans, and boots that had been placed next to Aziraphale's shoes for now.

A soft sigh could be heard from next to him, Aziraphale voicing his contentment. Crowley grinned and leaned over his angel, blocking the sun and earning himself a raised eyebrow.

"Hello, sunshine," Crowley purred.

"You are blocking the light, my dear," was the lazy protest.

Crowley studied the lightly tanned features, delighting in the way the lines that had been residing in the beloved face had receded. Ever since the visit from the messenger angel, informing Aziraphale that his status as a field agent of Heaven had been revoked, the angel had been somewhat down. It had shown in his suddenly very regular opening hours, selling books to even the worst creep – in Crowley's opinion, which accounted for much – and barely voicing a protest as to Crowley's trouble-making.

The demon had finally stopped it altogether because what sense did it make if there wasn't an angel to thwart him? Or at least encourage humans to do the thwarting?

Aziraphale had taken it hard. He hadn't Fallen, but for him it was like teetering forever on the edge. No longer a true angel, but also not a Fallen one. He was unbalanced, depressed, moody, and downright strange at times.

Crowley had done his best to cheer him up, but most of that had backfired, leaving an equally moody demon to terrorize the plants in his flat.

After a month, things had taken a slight upward turn and Aziraphale had started hoarding new books and discouraging the customers from buying too many of his collection. It had been the first sign of his imminent recovery. Crowley had watched him, had delighted in a good deed or two, and he had caused trouble just for the heck of it, to watch Aziraphale right the wrong.

Now, gazing at the face of his lover, he felt strong emotions flood him. A hand rose and cupped his neck, pulling him closer. Sunglasses met and mashed into their faces, and Aziraphale chuckled. He took off his own, squinting a little, and Crowley kissed him between the eyes.

Coming here, leaving London and the shop and the flat and everything else behind, had been the best idea ever. Crowley wasn't sure who had brought it up first, and he didn't really care. He wanted his angel to relax, to recover from the shock, and looking at the reclined being, he knew Aziraphale was on the best road to recovery.

Kissing him, exploring the moist heat, he put all he felt in each contact, listening to the whisper of breath, the soft humming, and rustle of clothes as Aziraphale moved to meet him.

"Thank you," the angel murmured when they parted.

"Huh?"

"For this."

"It's a lake and a stretch of grass, angel. It's bloody ordinary landscape. No one's even made a glossy book about it."

"It's quite wonderful."

Blue eyes shone with the truth of that statement and he smiled at it.

Their kisses continued, deep and loving and quite hot, but aside from a little caressing and stroking, neither initiated the next step. Crowley was just happy to have his angel so open, so approachable, and so responsive. He started to explore the unmarred skin, so delightful and smooth, smelling of sun and a cleanness no human could manage. His hands stroked over the muscles underneath that skin, feeling them quiver and contract, felt the strength in the slender limbs. Crowley's mouth found a nipple and his tongue laved it gently, Aziraphale murmuring his appreciation. He blew on the hardening nub, drawing a little gasp.

Crowley let his fingers torment the hard peaks and plotted a course down south with his mouth, kissing and biting gently at the skin until it reddened under his torments. He knew Aziraphale wasn't very happy with parts of himself, found himself lacking. The demon himself had a perfect body, a fit, athletic one, youngish, with handsome features. Aziraphale had on more than one occasion complained – though never openly – that he thought he looked too old and was either overweight or flabby in some regions.

Nipping at the smooth stomach, Crowley wondered where his angel had got that idea from. Sure, he looked a bit older in that body than Crowley, but he surely wasn't fat. Sliding up the pliant form, the demon looked into the deep blue eyes and he licked his lips.

Delectable…

Suddenly his balance was upset and he gave a yelp of surprise as he found himself on his back with a mischievously smiling angel on top. Crowley answered that smile with a devilish grin.

"Playful," he teased.

His lips were nibbled at, Aziraphale avoiding a tongues-involved kiss. "Very," he breathed.

"Hmmm, love playful," was the reply and he arched a little against the other.

"Good."

Aziraphale seemed to put everything into the kiss. Crowley felt himself drown and was resuscitated, awakened by the flavors, scent and heat of the man in his arms, by the clever tongue that languorously explored his mouth.

The angel withdrew, eliciting a whimper of protest from the supine demon. Crowley stared at the handsome face just inches from his own. He blue eyes were glazed with passion, Aziraphale's lips swollen from the fierce passion of their kiss.

"I want you," the angel murmured, undulating his hips a little.

Crowley hissed as he felt the evidence of their arousal meet further down south.

"Yesss," he managed.

He…G…. whatever, yes!

He was Aziraphale's. No doubt about it. As much as priests across the ages ranted on about Evil defiling Good, demons tainting angels, tempting them with their wickedness, Crowley was convinced that if anyone was tainted, it was him. Aziraphale was a white light, a radiant existence that engulfed him, warmed him, made him crave the angel's presence. Crowley had never tried, at least purposefully, not accidentally, to sway his angel from the divine mumbo-jumbo. They both just lived their lives as they saw fit.

If anything, the angel had rubbed off on him more than he might have rubbed off on the angel. But it was okay. Everything was in a perfect balance and the little bastard in Aziraphale made up for the developing angel in Crowley.

Clothes went the way of all unwanted things and naked forms writhed against each other. Crowley had lost the sunglasses somewhere along the wild kisses and heavy fondling, but he didn't give a flying… ohyesrighttheremore!

The mutual noise, rising in fervour and volume, couldn't be heard except by some innocent wild creatures that had heard similar things before. Still, since humans weren't very interesting, not even human-shaped immortals, there was no one bothering them.

Crowley shouted out his completion with his angel buried deep inside him, feeling the rush of release, the mind-numbing fire that was his climax, and the echoing cry of his lover. There was a blissful moment of total nothingness, of just the aftershocks of the rush, of the warmth, of the happiness, and he gathered Aziraphale close as the angel sank onto him.

He nibbled gently at the sun-warmed skin, breathing in the heady smell of sweat, sun, the air, grass, and everything that was purely Aziraphale. Clean and intoxicating. He licked over the strong neck, drawing a moan.

"I could stay like this all day," Crowley whispered, voice suffused with lazy satisfaction.

Aziraphale hummed in mirrored pleasure and moved a little, slipping free. Crowley rolled them slightly, looking down at his lover, who looked so relaxed, so beautiful…

"loveyou," he whispered. "verymuch."

 

*

 

They stayed for the rest of the day, soaking up the sun, loving each other, and Crowley listened and craved the soft cries, moans and whimpers from his angel. Aziraphale was sensitive, which was typical of an angel, and the demon used that sensitivity in their encounters. And they were incredibly sensual. Hearing Aziraphale voice his pleasure made Crowley shiver. Their love wasn't brand new any more, but the depth and the intensity always shocked him anew.

Add to that their suddenly-free status, it left him as unbalanced as Aziraphale, but not so completely. He had quickly caught himself and readjusted his existence, an existence where Hell no longer interfered with a life he loved. And the angel he loved.

He ran his fingers through the blond hair, watching the sun play with the whitish blond highlights and sink into the darker strands. He ghosted teasing finger tips over the sensitive skin, rewarded by a soft murmur of appreciation.

The snake in Crowley enjoyed the heat, the warmth of the sun on his skin, how it seemed to melt his muscles, turn them into rubber, and the cool grass was a delicious sensation on top of that.

Somewhere throughout these hours he unfurled his wings, sighing in pleasure as the black feathers soaked up more sun, as he felt the heat coalesce, and the mere thought to return to London resulted in complete and total aversion.

 

*

 

Aziraphale reclined naked on the grass, his fair skin tanning gently without going through the rigors and discomfort of a sunburn. It helped to be of divine essence, he mused with a little smile. Beside him, Crowley was dozing, his breaths deep and regular, his body warming in the sun. He looked like incredibly content, comfortable, relaxed… and satisfied.

The angel smiled more, his own body responding with little shivers to the past hours of intimate encounters.

Sitting up, gazing out over the peaceful landscape, he finally let his eyes rest on the demon beside him.

He and Crowley were free. No more employment by either Heaven or Hell. They both had been deleted off the lists, the accounts were closed, and whatever they did, neither Side would lay claim to it. Both still had their inherent motivations. Aziraphale couldn't create trouble at will any more than Crowley would voluntarily do good. That hadn't changed. Everything else had.

Still, it was a good feeling. After weeks of thinking it over and over and over, Aziraphale had come to the conclusion that despite being out of a job, he was still himself. Nothing had changed that. Nothing would ever change his feelings for Crowley, and the demon was quite intense in his expression of his feelings for the angel.

They lived neutral lives to a degree, between the two Sides, and they were influencing each other. Aziraphale knew that he was just as bad as Crowley was good. A few millennia ago it might have shocked him; now he actually took it in his stride, accepted it, and found it less unsettling than the rise of e-books and on-line reading. It was part of them; without it, he wouldn't be here.

Today. Right now. Loving Crowley.

So now what?

He ran his bookshop, he thwarted evil if it happened to stumble across his path, and he didn't have to write reports or expect orders he didn't like. Crowley wouldn't interfere any more with his work than he had already, and he would do the same.

Just like before.

So very normal.

Aziraphale ran a finger over the long flight feathers of the wing closest to him. They gleamed in the sun, midnight black with bluish depths, and they were fascinatingly beautiful for him. Like the whole man. In six millennia he had never given the other such deep thoughts. At least not when it came to possible intercourse. Now was different. Now he appreciated the beauty that was Anthony J. Crowley. Not just in body but also in mind.

"Don't hurt yourself, angel," a sleepy voice mumbled and one snake eye peered at him over the folded arms Crowley's head rested on.

"Hm?"

"Thinking. You're thinking. I can almost feel it."

"Just contemplating, my dear."

"The world in general or something in particular?"

Aziraphale continued to play with the feathers, drawing no complaints from his demon. "Both. The world as it is now, and us, as we are now. What are we, Crowley?"

"Well, I think I'm a demon. You know, evil spawn and all." He grinned insolently and rested his chin on his arms, giving Aziraphale his whole attention. "Do evil, make trouble, the whole kaboodle. And you, if I'm not totally mistaken, are a divine being, of celestial descent, an angel, and you're supposed to do good. Help humanity and all that crap."

"But we're no longer employed."

"Free-lancing, Zira. Lots of humans do it, so I guess we can do it, too."

"Above has enough agents. They don't need free-lancers. As does Below, I presume. I also figure that a free-lancing demon is too much a risk to employ."

Crowley chuckled. "Yeah, kinda. I'm not really hot for orders anyway. Even the free-lancing kind."

"So what are we?"

"We're us. Just us. I think it's enough."

Crowley turned onto his back, the wings disappearing so they wouldn't get in the way. He yawned and stretched languidly, showing off the very sexy body that Aziraphale knew intimately.

"It probably is," the angel murmured. He gazed out over the lake. "It reminds me of Merowyn Falls, you know."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. "Merowyn Falls?"

A wistful smile was on Aziraphale's lips. "Do you remember?"

Of course he did. Merowyn Falls had been a small town at the end of the civilized world. Both had found themselves there after a long and harrying decade where Crowley had severely doubted everything; his existence, Above, Below, everything in between. He had had great difficulty staying out of the trouble created by humans on their own, finding himself severely out of a job because of so much evil loose on the planet. It had been terrifying to watch the human mind develop more and more terrible weapons, slaying thousands and still planning to slay more.

Crowley had stood in a sea of blood, almost literally, unable to comprehend how this had been done by humans. No demonic influence at all. Hell would never grasp the concept of this evil, this… humanity.

So he had fled.

Horrified, feeling sick and helpless and shocked to the core, he had fled and found himself in Merowyn Falls. He had been exhausted, mentally tired, fighting for composure and wanting nothing more than to just sleep a few more decades away. Maybe the whole trouble would be over by then.

He had been more than a little shocked to find Aziraphale there, too. The angel had looked as harried and exhausted as Crowley had felt, and the immortals had just stared at each other in silent understanding. Helpless against this form of terror, unable to take the cries and pain any longer, they had unconsciously come to the one place where there was still a measure of peace.

Like this little lake, Merowyn Falls had been undiscovered by civilization. The people there were still in harmony with nature, and for the first time Crowley had found himself incapable of interrupting anything. He had just sat there, with Aziraphale, watching their daily lives, and he had healed.

It had taken them both a long time. A very, very long time. The demon still remembered the days when Aziraphale had started to tremble for no apparent reason, his eyes reflecting the pain of thousands of souls, and there had been nothing he could do. Even back then Crowley had fought against his nature to maybe draw the distraught being into an embrace, but aside from a gentle touch while the angel had slept and hadn't felt it, he had done nothing.

Now was different.

Crowley sat up and drew Aziraphale into an embrace, placing a kiss against the blond head.

"I remember," he murmured. "I never felt so…" He stopped, closing his eyes.

"Horrified," Aziraphale murmured.

"Yeah."

Silent, lost in their own thoughts, the two beings shared a moment. Finally Aziraphale smiled a little.

"I'm not horrified now," the angel told him.

"No?" Dark eyebrows twitched up.

"Just lost. For a while at least. It was rather abrupt."

Crowley nodded to himself. He had felt it as well, but the angel was much more sensitive in these matters.

"You haven't Fallen," he murmured.

"I know, my dear. I know."

Wrapped together, Crowley burying his face in the dark blond waves, they watched the sunset. Neither was inclined to leave and there was no reason to.

They were their own persons now.

It just needed some getting used to.


End file.
